


The Curious Case of Luke Skywalker

by BatuuPrincess



Series: Damerey Week 2020 [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Eventual Romance, F/M, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatuuPrincess/pseuds/BatuuPrincess
Summary: After the death of his partner in a standoff with a shadowy crime syndicate known as the First Order, Poe Dameron leaves the police force to become a private detective. But the life of a PI isn’t as glamorous as he imagines, every day a never ending drudge of missing persons and cheating spouses. That is, until SHE walks in.Rey Skywalker, heiress of the Skywalker fortune, is everything he’d once dreamed of in a client. Pretty, dim, and richer than god, she brings with her a curious case regarding her father, the reclusive Luke Skywalker. At first glance, it’s an open and shut case. But as events and clues unfold, Poe realizes there’s more to both Rey and the case than meets the eye.Will he be able to solve the case in time? And what does Luke Skywalker have to do with the mysterious First Order? All will be revealed during the Curious Case of Luke Skywalker.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey
Series: Damerey Week 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976626
Comments: 58
Kudos: 44





	1. The Client

**Author's Note:**

> I will not lie to you, this is my favorite day I have planned. This story in particular (number four in the six(!) multi-chapter stories I'm starting this week) is probably my favorite of the bunch, though today's second entry is a close second. It's strange and ambitious and I'm so, so excited to share it with you! 
> 
> If you squint, this does hit the day 4 prompt of picture. Happy reading!

Poe leaned back in his chair, lighting his fifth or sixth cigarette of the morning. And it was only 9am. That harmless pack a day habit was quickly becoming two. Oh well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. 

Inhaling deeply, he let the smoke curl in his lungs, savoring the burn and crinkle of the paper as he took a hit.

It was another day just like every other at the Dameron Detective Agency (and yes, he knew he needed a better name than that), the constant slog of two-bit detective work enough to drive a man to drink. Which Poe happily did, pouring his breakfast into the crystal tumbler he kept on his desk. Taking a long slug, he put his feet on the desk. 

Case after case of no good cheating husbands and missing girls with unhappy endings had started to wear on him, chipping away at that glowing optimism that even his years on the force hadn’t been able to take from him. But he was a long way from the Coruscant Police department. 

Oh how he missed the simple days, when the tip of his hat and flash of a badge could open any door. Now, he could barely make a contact sing without slipping some hard earned scratch to grease the palms. It was really eating into his business. 

And business, well, it wasn’t exactly booming for a disgraced former cop with a chip on his shoulder. If only that business with Muran hadn’t gone south. 

It had been nearly two years since they walked into that trap, and Poe still thought about it daily, turning the details over and over again in his mind until nothing made sense anymore. 

_ It was raining cats and dogs as they worked their way down a darkened alley to the warehouse at the end. They’d been on this case for months, following a veritable trail of bodies to this very warehouse and the shadowy organization within.  _

_ The First Order was a crime syndicate the likes of which Coruscant had never seen, and Poe and Muran were hot on their heels. They’d received an anonymous tip about a meeting taking place at the old light factory, all the top lieutenants in one place. All they needed was to get into the building and stay quiet, and they’d finally have enough to put these goons away. To end the carnage happening on their streets. _

_ It almost felt too good to be true. _

_ Over his years as a detective, Poe had learned to trust his gut. That feeling that told him something was off. Like when an anonymous tip floats across their desks the exact moment the case against the First Order hits a massive dead end. _

_ “Jim,” he said, shaking Muran’s shoulder. They were both soaked to the bone and he had to raise his voice to be heard over the pounding rain. “Jim, where did you say that tip came from?” _

_ Muran turned to look at him, a wry smile on his face. “I don’t know, Poe. That’s kind of the definition of ‘anonymous.’” _

_ But Poe wasn’t about to be deterred. _

_ “Yeah, but don’t you think it’s a little odd? I mean, the trail went cold, what, three days ago? And then miraculously this shows up…” _

_ “And we owe it to all the people these scum have tossed out, no better than garbage, to chase down every lead we get. Think of them, Poe. Sloane, Pryde, maybe even both of the Huxes.”  _

_ And Poe did, far too often these days. He could see each and every one of their faces, the men and women who had tried to stand against the First Order and paid with their lives. Their old informant, Boolio, who just wanted out of the game. Del Meeko. And of course, Tallie, who had come to Poe for help and ended up in a butcher’s meat grinder for her troubles. _

_ Muran was watching him, his golden brown eyes bright even in this alley. “Listen, sometimes luck is just that - luck. And I don’t know about you, but I for one prefer not to look a gift horse in the mouth.” _

In the moment, Poe had agreed. Little did he know that those would be Muran’s last words.

In his office, he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. The whiskers rasped against his palm. He’d forgotten to shave. Again.

God, he didn’t know how much longer he could do this. Though, based on the state of his books, he wouldn’t have to for much longer.

He had two, maybe three months tops before he couldn’t afford the rent on this office anymore. Less than a month until he couldn’t afford his apartment and he was sleeping here, too.

How had it gotten this bad? One minute, Poe was a decorated police officer, a detective who righted the wrongs of the world, and the next, he was a washed up private dick, mere months away from adding homeless to his resume.

He could go home. That was always an option. Kes was always looking for help on the farm, and maybe getting away from the city for a while would do him good. All that clear sky and fresh air. He shuddered. That sounded absolutely horrifying.

There was something about this city that had gotten under his skin. It was like he hadn’t truly been alive until he stepped off that bus all these years ago and on to the filthy streets of Coruscant. This place was in his blood now, a part of him so intrinsic he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he left.

So, he’d find a way to stay. Like he had so many times before. First things first, do some billable work.

Three hours and 50 plus photographs of dirty old men in compromising positions later, Poe was ready to throw in the towel. There had to be more out there than cheating husbands and divorce happy wives.

That’s when  _ she _ walked in.

“Uh, Mr. Dameron?” came a soft, breathless voice from the door. “Sorry to barge in on you, but it seems your secretary stepped out.”

Yeah, she’d stepped out three weeks ago when Poe had been forced to let poor Rosie go. It had nearly killed him to do it, but it was her suggestion in the first place. Without her salary, he had bought himself another full month, and what with her marrying Finn and all, she probably wouldn’t have been working for him much longer anyway. But he wasn’t about to tell his prospective client that.

“Of course, come in, come in,” he said, looking up from his desk for the first time.

He would have sworn his jaw hit the floor. 

Standing in his doorway was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Wide eyes dominated a finely boned face, the green - no, hazel - shining in the dying light coming in from the back window. Under her hat, the hair was perfectly coiffed, rich chestnut curls just visible around a slim, elegant neck. Though he couldn’t see her clothes, the fur trimmed collar of her coat told him all he needed to know about her ability to pay his fee. It cinched tight around her tiny waist, highlighting what he imagined to be an impressive figure. A tall drink of water, as the fellas would say, and a sight for sore eyes after hours of looking at the old, fat men in compromising positions. 

Her eyes found his in the gloomy office, rooting him to the spot. She had a way about her, almost as if she floated as she walked. Ethereal, that was the word. Like she was not of this world.

Gathering his wits about him, he found his manners and stood to greet her, knowing even before he did that she’d tower over him in her heels. 

He extended a hand. “Poe Dameron, private eye. How can I help you, Ms…”

The woman accepted his shake with a gloved hand. Leather. The good stuff. Soft as a baby’s bottom. “Miss Skywalker. Rey Skywalker.”

Well that explained the coat. 

The Skywalkers were richer than god, the type of Coruscant success story most folks aspired to. Poe found himself biting back a smile. If he was working for the Skywalkers, there’d be no issues with his fee, that’s for sure.

“What can I do for you Miss Skywalker?” he said in his most charming voice. Absently, he wished he’d shaved that morning. Or was a little more sober.

“It’s my father, you see,” she said in that same breathless voice, eyes a little unfocused. Like she was somehow seeing beyond him. She slid a small photograph over to Poe, not that he needed it. Everyone knew Luke Skywalker.

Luke Skywalker had been born with nothing, a farm boy much like Poe. Raised by his aunt and uncle, he’d come to Coruscant with only the coat on his back and a few pennies to his name. Here, he took a job in Kenney’s vacuum factory, where he got an idea.

Fifteen prototypes later, he had the world’s first mass produced, domestic vacuum cleaner. A Skywalker for every home, they said. And it was true. Made him a fortune ten men would have trouble spending.

From there, he stayed mainly out of the papers, marrying, raising the daughter that now stood before Poe, running the company he so painstakingly built. That is, until about 10 years ago, when the grisly murder of his wife brought him back into the spotlight.

Poe had only been a beat cop back then, nowhere near what had been the case of the century. Naturally, Luke had been the prime suspect. It was always the husband. 

Except apparently in this case. Luke had later been cleared of all charges, but his reputation was toast. From what Poe had heard, he’d retired from public life all together, preferring to spend his days tinkering, trying to come up with the next big thing. When he did pop up, he came off as eccentric if you were kind, crazy if you weren’t. Poe just thought he was a man who had seen too much.

Poe handed her back the picture. “And what can I do for your father?” His mind was filled with all sorts of possibilities - corporate espionage, perhaps a robbery, maybe even some long buried lead in his wife’s murder. Anything but old, fat men in compromising positions. So he definitely wasn’t expecting the lovely Miss Skywalker to open her mouth and say:

“I need you to solve his murder.”

Had Poe had anything in his mouth, Miss Skywalker would have been wearing it in that moment. 

“Luke Skywalker’s dead?” He managed to sputter out. How hadn’t he heard of this? The city should be reeling with the news. Luke Skywalker murdered 10 years after his wife. This was the stuff of front page news. 

Unless, the police didn’t know about it. 

Poe looked at the pretty young woman standing in front of him. Could she be a killer? Perhaps that’s who Luke had been covering for all those years ago. She would have been a girl back then, but he’d heard stranger things. And there was that peculiarity about her…

He realized that neither of them had said anything for a moment and jumped in.

“With all due respect, Miss Skywalker, as much as I would love to take on your case, I think this might be a job for the police.” He was already crossing the room to grab his coat. Whether she’d walked in on it or done it herself, he’d hand her over to the police and let them take it from there. “Here, let me walk you down to the station, we can talk to the detectives, get this all sorted out.”

“No.”

Poe’s blood ran cold. Was he about to be her next victim? “No?”

Rey stood up straighter, those beautiful eyes staring into his very soul. “No, I will not be returning to the police station.”

“So you’ve already been to the police?” Poe asked, genuinely confused. What the hell was going on here?

“Yes, right before I came to see you. And those brutes laughed me right out of the building.”

Ok, now he was definitely missing something. “You went to report a murder… and the police… laughed at you?”

Poe realized she was a little… spacy? Nutty? Strange? Pick a word. But that didn’t mean the police should be discounting her completely. He’d worked for Coruscant PD long enough to get his fair share of nutjobs, and Rey Skywalker barely even qualified. 

“Yes. Though not before they suggested I see you.” She rummaged through her little handbag. “And one of them gave me this.” She handed over one of his business cards.

There was only one cop still on the force who would have one of these. Temmin “Snap” Wexley. He was an old friend, and a hell of a cop. One of the good ones. So if Snap thought this woman deserved a look, then Poe would give it.

“But why would they send you away when you were trying to report a murder?”

For a split second, Miss Skywalker’s face showed a hint of trepidation, a shrewdness that he swore hadn’t been there a moment ago. With the blink of an eye, it was gone, her expression back to that blank, almost vapid stare. Like the lights were on, but no one was home.

“Well, you see,” she started out, taking a deep breath, “I have this sixth sense..”

Oh, Poe didn’t like where this was going.

“And I had a vision.”

“You... had a vision?” There was no keeping the skepticism out of his voice. 

But Miss Skywalker was undeterred by his doubt, going on to drop this lovely bombshell on him. “Yes. I’d like to solve my father’s murder… which will occur in three days’ time.”

He was going to kill Snap.


	2. The Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against his better judgement, Poe goes to Skywalker mansion to meet the future victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! We're getting a little deeper in the Skywalker mystery now.

Poe blinked at the woman in front of him. “So what you’re telling me is that your father is fine. Safe at home.”

“Correct,” she answered, completely guileless. He had to wonder if the broad was a little batty. Such a shame too, she was quite the dish.

“Any threats against his person? Letters, warnings, maybe a couple of goons threatened to rough him up on his morning walk?”

“Why, no of course not,” she answered in that breathy voice of hers, completely oblivious to how certifiable she sounded. “The people here all love my father, and anyways he barely leaves the house these days.”

Poe looked toward the heavens for strength. Was this Snap’s idea of a joke?

“Listen Miss Skywalker, I’m gonna level with you. There’s nothing for me to investigate. So you should save your money--”

“Oh is this a matter of payment?” she interrupted, once again digging into her purse. “Because I can pay, Mr. Dameron.” She proceeded to take out a wad of bills, counting out three crisp hundreds. “Does $300 work for a retainer?”

Poe’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. That was more than triple his usual fee. With that kind of scratch he’d be able to buy a few more months in business. Maybe even keep his apartment. 

But the honest part of his brain would not be silenced. He couldn’t in good conscience take a crazy woman’s money, even when it would mean saving his life and livelihood.

“Miss Skywalker, I couldn’t--”

She immediately added two bills. “You drive a hard bargain. $500 it is. Plus expenses, of course.” 

When he didn’t take the cash, her face dropped that dumb, blank look into something sharper, far more intelligent than she’d been letting on. “Please, Mr. Dameron.” She pressed the cash into his hand. “I’m begging you.”

Something on her face thawed the ice that had surrounded his heart these past two years just enough that he took the money against his better judgement. He hoped he didn’t come to regret it.

“Ok, I’ll take the case.”

And just like that, the vapid smile and breathy voice were back. “Oh thank goodness, Mr. Dameron. I just don’t know where else to turn.”

It was an act, that much was becoming clear, but he wasn’t getting paid to look into why Rey Skywalker was pretending to be a dingbat. He had a case to work.

“Let me get you a receipt,” he said, making his way back over to his desk to dig out his receipt book. It had been so long, he wasn’t even sure where he’d put it. “Then I can start tomorrow by interviewing some folks around town, see what the talk is on your old man.” He came up victorious in the third drawer. 

“There’s no need for a receipt. But I fear that tomorrow will just not work. I’d like you to come interview my father. Immediately.”

“Uh, Miss Skywalker, I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Again the insipid act dropped in an instant. “Then you’ll need to make it work.” She added a smile at the end that told him everything he needed to know about who was in charge here. And it wasn’t him.

What had he gotten himself into?

Which is how he found himself on the front stoop of the Skywalker mansion not even an hour later. 

His head was pounding, courtesy of the liquid lunch he’d enjoyed that day. Maybe now he could actually afford to buy himself a decent supper once in a while. He really needed to diversify from the steady diet of scotch.

Though he couldn’t help but marvel at his current position, tilting his head up to take in the magnificent Skywalker Mansion. 

It was practically a whole city block, the kind of place that most people in Coruscant aspired to with its over the top gothic architecture and white Indiana limestone exterior. Hell, it looked more like a french chateau than anything belonging to the grit and grime of this bustling city. Standing six stories, it towered over the neighborhood, a beacon against the early dark of a Coruscant winter. They’d already passed one manned guardhouse at the edge of the drive, and found themselves at a second next to the door.

“Evening, Miss Skywalker,” said the guard with a tip of his hat. He rushed out to open the door for her.

“Evening, James.”

They walked through the door into the massive entryway, at least two stories done up in dark wood and heavy gold, and were immediately greeted by a man in rich livery. A butler of some sort, Poe supposed. How in the world did these people think anyone could get to them here? They employed half the city.

“Evening, Mistress Skywalker,” said the man. “May I take your coat?” 

“Of course, Charles.” She handed over the rich garment, revealing an even richer dress underneath. Bottle green, it cinched tight around her tiny waist, the skirt flowing out from a wide belt. Carefully, she unpinned her hat, handing it over as well. Poe tried not to stare at the full picture. But she was certainly a sight for sore eyes. “Is Dad in the library?”

“No, Dad is right here.”

They both looked up to find the reclusive Luke Skywalker standing at the top of a grand staircase, dressed to the nines in a full suit though it was quite obvious he hadn’t been outside of this castle for a while. 

He looked like any other old man, white hair neatly parted and combed back, face covered by a neat beard in direct opposition of the current fashion. Which tracked. He was a recluse after all.

Next to him, the butler subtly cleared his throat, indicating that Poe hand over his jacket. Which he did.

“Come in, come in,” said Luke, like a genial grandfather. He made his way down the stairs, quite spritely for a man his age. “You must be the detective my dear daughter hired.”

Poe accepted his handshake with grace. Good god, he was shaking the hand of Luke Skywalker. The Luke Skywalker. Would the wonders never cease?

“That’s me,” he responded lamely. 

“Excellent, let’s head into the study, shall we? Charles, have some refreshments sent up please.”

“Right away, sir.”

Poe watched the man go, his gait taking on a strange, stiff limp. 

“The Great War, I’m afraid,” said Luke quietly, seeming to read his mind. “Terrible injury. We served side-by-side and when we got back, I immediately hired him. Have you heard the news from overseas? It sounds like we’re headed for another one.”

“So he’s loyal to the family?” asked Poe, hating how he sounded. But he did have a job to do, and from this point on, every one was a suspect of the made-up murder.

“Charles Threepio wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone me.” Luke waved off the mere suggestion. “But let’s continue this somewhere private.”

So Poe found himself following Luke up the grand staircase, the young Miss Skywalker bringing up the rear. They bypassed the first landing in favor of the second, then followed down a long, lavishly appointed hall to the study.

Like everything in the house, the study was larger than life, more a library than a gentleman’s office. It was two stories, maybe three, with floor to ceiling bookcases dominating more than one wall. A ladder connected to a track along the top, ostensibly allowing the master of the house full movement while reaching his books. Luke led them past the wide mahogany desk to a small sitting area with squashy armchairs gathered around a small table. Outside the wall of windows directly across from them was the interior courtyard, largely dormant in the winter cold.

Luke situated himself on one of the armchairs, indicating Poe should do the same. Rey didn’t need any urging, seating herself at the third spot and staring at them expectantly. As if realizing what she was doing, she quickly rearranged her face into the blank, slightly moony pleasantness. Trying not to roll his eyes, Poe turned to Luke.

Luke crossed his arms over his stomach. “Ah, yes. Now how do we begin this Mr. Dameron? Do you talk first, do I talk first?”

“Well, what can you tell me about this threat to your life?” asked Poe, trying to stifle a smirk.

“I think Rey can describe it better than I.”

That was all the encouragement she needed to jump in. “I don’t know what else you need. In three days’ time, my father will be murdered.”

“Can you give me any more than that?” he asked, struggling not to roll his eyes. It was bad enough he had to humor these people, let alone try and pull the details of the pretend murder from them. “The location of the crime? Maybe the faces of the men who do it? Any other details, no matter how small.”

Rey blinked rapidly. “Well, you see, my visions aren’t that specific. It’s more of a feeling than anything else.”

Oh great, he was chasing after a  _ feeling _ of murder. That made things so much easier.

But Rey wasn’t quite done yet. “Though I remember an overturned ink pot, the stain spreading across a rich, red carpet.” Her eyes were closed like she was seeing it play out in her mind. “A blue tie bobbing the breeze. A bird with pointed feathers. And a sunburst, only square.” Her eyes popped open, Poe disarmed by the intelligence in those hazel orbs. “Does that help?”

Poe sighed, taking a small notebook out of his breast pocket. Carefully, he wrote  _ inkpot - overturned, red carpet, blue tie - neck? rope? sash?, pointy bird _ . He paused drawing a blank on that final bit of nonsense. 

“What was that last bit?” 

“A sunburst, but it didn’t look normal. It was squared off. Mean looking.”

Poe added  _ sunburst - but square _ to his list. He omitted mean looking. Something told him he’d remember that particular detail.

“Mr. Skywalker, is there anyone you can think of who would want you dead? Any recent threats? Strange letters or phone calls?”

“Not that I am aware of,” he answered carefully. An alarm blared in the back of Poe’s mind. Intuition. There was something Mr. Skywalker wasn’t telling him. “Perhaps Charles or Arty could shed more light?”

“Arty?”

“Another member of my staff,” explained Luke, obviously grateful Poe hadn’t pushed him. “Arthur Detoo. He and Charles handle all the correspondence.”

Poe wrote the name down. He’d question everyone in the house… if this dragged on. Then again, he supposed there was a three-day limit. 

Luke turned to Rey. “Speaking of, why don’t you check on those refreshments. See if maybe they could add those cookies I so like? I’m a bit peckish.”

For a split second, that sharp look was back, her eyes narrowing slightly before smoothing out into that soft blankness once more. “Of course, Father. I’ll be right back.”

Luke’s watery blue eyes traced her path from the room, not leaving her retreating form until she had disappeared from sight. Poe did much the same. Just because she was insane, didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view. 

As soon as she was gone, Luke turned his attention back to Poe. “I’d like to thank you for taking this case for my daughter, Mr. Dameron. I do hope she’s paying you well.”

Poe’s guard was up in an instant. “She was quite generous,” he answered carefully, not sure where this was going.

“Excellent. I’d like to add my own two cents, so to speak,” he said, getting up from his chair and crossing the room to the desk. Pulling a key from his pocket, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a wad of bills. “What do you say to two, maybe three extra hundred?”

Poe’s eyes bugged out of his head. That, combined with the sum Miss Skywalker had already provided, was more money than he’d made in the last year. Hell, maybe the last two. Combined. With pockets that deep, he could afford to stay open and even rehire Rose. All for three day’s work. But Poe had been around the block enough times to know that when something sounded too good to be true, it generally was. Money like that didn’t come without strings attached. 

“Why? What do you want from me?” He knew he sounded suspicious, if not downright rude, but Poe had spent too many years keeping himself out of gangster’s pockets to be bought now.

Luke gave him a wry smile. “She had to go find the one honest man in this city, didn’t she?” With a soft chuckle, he shook his head. “I’d like you to keep humoring Rey for the next few days. And your discretion, of course.”

“So you don’t believe she’s psychic?”

“Not at all.” He waved off Poe’s concern. “We all have the sight in my family. I have it, my sister has it, I was even told my father had it, though I never really knew him. So of course Rey has the sight.”

Poe blinked. There was a lot to unpack in that, but he chose the most pressing question. “So why don’t you believe her vision?”

For a second Poe let himself revel in the weirdness of the situation. Here he was talking psychic ability and visions with the richest man in Coruscant, possibly the world. This day just kept getting stranger.

Luke sighed, dropping into the desk chair. “Like Rey said, the visions are…” he trailed off, searching for the right word, “murky. Most of the time, you don’t understand what they mean until after the fact.”

“Then why hire me?”

Poe watched as Luke’s face fell, all earlier humor and lightness disappearing in an instant. “She blames herself for her mother’s death.”

Whatever Poe had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that.

At whatever look crossed Poe’s face, Luke urged himself on. “You see, she had a vision, just fragments really. She was only nine years old. We thought it was a nightmare.”

Poe’s heart squeezed in his chest. No wonder Miss Skywalker was a bit… eccentric. That kind of guilt ate at you, Poe knew firsthand.

“So, understandably, this latest development brings up some things for her.” Luke stood, making his way back over to where Poe was still sitting. “I’d just like to give her some peace of mind for the time being. Then three days from now when I’m still kicking and we find out that the vision actually meant I’m clumsy and have a penchant for blue neckties, we’ll get back to our lives and you’ll be a little richer. It’s a win-win.”

All right, something definitely stunk here and it had little to do with the musty old books surrounding them or the cloud of perfume surrounding Miss Skywalker. It was all a little too neat and tidy for Poe. There was something these two were not telling him. Though, even he had to admit that it didn’t seem particularly dangerous or illegal. Just odd. Maybe a little overprotective. Then again, odd was definitely the word when dealing with the Skywalkers.

“And you’re certain you’re in no danger?” asked Poe. He didn’t necessarily expect a straight answer, but still had to ask. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you.”

That wasn’t exactly a resounding yes, but he was saved from having to push harder by Miss Skywalker’s re-entry into the room. She paused a step or two into the room, assessing the situation.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” she said, showing a bit of that bite. 

Luke’s face had returned to its earlier carefree smile. “We were just finishing up with known associates, that sort of thing,” he lied smoothly. Right. Discretion. “The refreshments?”

“Arty is just a few steps behind,” she said, tone still sharp. Poe could tell that his daughter didn’t believe a word that was coming out of Luke’s mouth, but she made some sort of decision to let it go. Though this time, it took even longer for her expression to return to that slightly unfocused look. A crack in the facade.

Just then, a short and stout man dressed in the same rich livery as the butler who greeted them entered the study. Without so much as a word, he set down a tray laden with tea and whiskey and little cookies and promptly hightailed it out of the room. 

Poe looked after him with a curious eye, once again catching Luke’s attention.

“A man of few words, Arty is. Another fellow I served with. Owe my life to him, in fact.”

Poe felt his mouth twist into a wry smile. “So somebody else I have no need to look into?” If he listened to Skywalker, there wouldn’t even be any pretend suspects to look into. How the hell was he supposed to make this last three days?

“Naturally.”

With a shake of his head, Poe got to his feet, attempting to smooth the wrinkles out of his pants. It was a lost cause. “Well, I think I have enough to get a good start.” Lies. “So, I’ll leave you.”

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” Luke gestured toward the tray. “Fresh baked.”

It certainly wasn’t the cookies that tempted him, rather that shiny decanter of amber liquid in the center. But as much as he wanted to, there were places to go and people to see. And he’d do best not being drunk while attending to them.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure,” he said, watching as Miss Skywalker helped herself to a cup of tea before adding a hearty pour of whiskey into the cup. Woman after his own heart. “I can see myself out.”

At that, Rey was on her feet. “Nonsense. I’ll see you out.”

There was no arguing with her tone, so he followed her out, Luke giving him a long, loaded look as she marched him from the room. 

Threepio was already waiting with his coat when they arrived in the entry hall. Apparently the Skywalkers weren’t the only psychics in the house.

The young Miss Skywalker waited until Poe was shrugging on his coat to turn on him.

“So how will you be going about my father’s case?” she asked, no sign of that gentle, moony persona. 

_ Discretion, Poe. Humor her. _

“I was planning on starting with some contacts around town. See if there are any whispers among the less savory elements about whatever’s going on with your father.” He’d come up with it on the spot, but it actually wasn’t a half bad plan. Plus it would give him an excuse to hit up some of his favorite gin joints. Win-win. 

“Then I’d like to accompany you.”

Poe blanched at the mere suggestion. A woman as gentle and sweet (and let’s be honest, rich) as Rey Skywalker had no business in the kind of places Poe would be visiting. 

“Miss Skywalker, with all due respect…”

“If I was really due all that respect, you wouldn’t be trying to convince me not to,” she snapped, cutting him off.

“MIss Skywalker, the people I’ll be talking to…” he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face. Somehow, he was starting to think the literal wad of cash he’d been handed would not be enough for this job. “I really think it would be safer for you to stay here. With your father. You, know, to keep an eye on him.”

“Don’t patronize me.” She took a deep breath, her eyes falling closed for a second. Centering herself. Calming down. When those eyes opened again, the hazel a muddy green in this light, they bore into him with an intensity he wasn’t expecting. “Please,” she begged, and his stomach gave a little flip. “I can’t just sit here waiting for the worst to happen. I need to be out there. Doing something.”

Looking into those eyes, hearing the near desperation in her voice, it did something to him. Luke’s words rang through his head,  _ She blames herself for her mother’s death _ . In that moment, Poe could relate. 

So against his better judgement he said, “Ok.”

“Ok?” Rey’s face lit up, almost like she couldn’t believe she’d won. 

“I’ll swing by around three tomorrow, we can go question some folks.”

“Three? Don’t we want to get a start first thing. I-”

Poe put a hand up, stopping her before she really got going. Nope, $800 was not going to be enough to deal with Miss Skywalker, that much was apparent. “The types we’ll be talking to aren’t the morning crowd, if you know what I mean.”

He doubted she did, what with her standing in her fancy dress in the middle of her fancier mansion, but Rey nodded anyway. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Miss Skywalker. I have some work to do.” He donned his hat and made to step out the door.

But a soft voice stopped him in his tracks. “It’s Rey. Please call me Rey.”

Poe turned, finding himself face to face with his client. She had a soft expression on her face, probably one of the first real ones he’d ever seen there, her eyes a sparkling green in the light of the house. 

For the first time in a long time, he found himself in danger. No matter what he told himself, he always had a weakness for a pretty face, and Rey Skywalker had one of the prettiest around. He needed to put a little distance between them, keep this professional. For his business and for his sanity.

So with a tip of his hat, he ignored her request and said, “Night, Miss Skywalker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are we thinking so far? Next chapter dials up the mystery to 11, so stay tuned for Chapter 3 - The Police Officer.


	3. The Police Officer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe pays a visit to an old friend. Later, Poe and Rey begin their investigation with rather disastrous results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I continue to be most proud of this story, and I hope you guys are enjoying reading it even half as much as I am writing it.

The door had barely snicked shut behind him before Poe was lighting up, the sizzle of paper and burn of the smoke in his lungs going a long way to calm his frazzled nerves. 

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

The Skywalkers were turning out to be a unique bunch. And he hadn’t even technically started on the case yet. Oh, and don’t get him started about the secrets. Those two were hiding things, he was sure of it. From him, from each other. Maybe even from themselves. What a mess. 

That didn’t even factor in the Rey - err, Miss Skywalker - of it all. She was pretty as a picture, and there was more to her than met the eye, he just knew it. Those little flashes of intelligence that she kept trying and failing to hide intrigued him, made him want to know more about her. Made him want to know her. He was man enough to admit it. 

And now, he was somehow right in the middle of it. Would he never learn?

Though, he had to admit, the money was both very needed and very welcome. Which begged the question: was he blinded by his own need to the very obvious bribe of the cash they were offering? Poe dismissed it. Miss Skywalker wasn’t that calculating. And anyway, she’d gotten his card from Snap. No ulterior motives there. If they wanted to waste their money on a wild goose chase, that was their prerogative. He’d simply do what he was hired to do. 

Snubbing out his cigarette, he put his hands into his coat pockets and immediately hit paper. Pulling it out, he found a neat stack of bills, the three hundred or so dollars that he didn’t actually remember accepting from Luke. He leaned back, looking up at the veritable castle looming above him. They said they were psychics, so he probably shouldn’t have been surprised if they were magicians, too. Poe shook his head. Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

Which reminded him, he definitely owed Snap a visit. 

Station 66 of the Coruscant Metro Police Department was much as Poe remembered. Probably because he’d been here less than a month ago. As much as he’d love to avoid this place - and its memories - like the plague, his unfortunate choice of career brought him here more often than not. 

Maybe closing up shop wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Poe shook off the thought as he pushed his way through the main door and right into Snap’s waiting grin at the front desk.

“Detective Poe Dameron,” he said, his deep voice booming out across the vestibule. So much for making a quiet entrance. “I’ve been wondering when you’d darken my doorstep.”

“Gee, I wonder why? Could it be because you sent me a dizzy broad and her certifiable father who are now sending me on a wild goose chase to solve a murder that hasn’t happened yet?”

Snap chuckled, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet on the desk in front of him. “Well that’s one point of view. Another would be that I sent a very rich, very distraught, and very pretty young woman to my struggling old friend who should now make more for three days of work than he had in the entire year prior. And have a lovely view while he did it.”

“Is this a setup or referral?” 

“Why can’t it be both?” At the look on Poe’s face, chuckled again, sitting back up. “All joking aside, I figured you could use the business and she could use the peace of mind. Win-win. And I stuck my neck out to do it.”

“Is that why you’re on desk duty?” asked Poe, quietly. It had struck him as odd as soon as he walked in. Snap was a detective, and a damn good one, too. So why was he sitting in reception in the deep blue of the Coruscant beat cop?

“No.” Snap waved off his concern. “This is courtesy of a little disagreement I had with the good Captain. Though I’m sure it’s not helping my sentence.”

Poe shook his head in camaraderie. He knew that all too well. “What’s up Deso’s ass this time?”

“Oh you know, it seems the Coruscant Police Department doesn’t take kindly to on-the-side investigations of closed cases.” He shrugged. “Lesson learned.”

A closed case. A testy Deso. That would mean… “Snap…”

“He was my friend, too, Poe,” said Snap, all traces of humor leaving his face. “You don’t have a monopoly on wanting justice for what happened to Muran.”

Poe stared into his friend’s dark eyes, seeing his own pain reflected back at him. Sometimes it was hard to remember that that particular pain wasn’t his and his alone. That the whole department had lost Muran. He was just the one who had disobeyed a direct order to stop investigating and lost his job over it.

“That’s a dangerous road,” he said delicately, willing Snap to hear the words left unsaid. 

“I know. Funny, but that seems to just make me want to dig more.”

Poe swallowed down the emotion that threatened to spill over at Snap’s words. “You’re one of the good ones, you know that?”

“I try,” responded Snap, that easy smile returning to his face.

Right. It was time to get back to the reason he was here. “So, what can you tell me about the Skywalker case?”

“Besides that’s she’s a little batty?” Poe huffed a laugh. “Well, I’m not exactly privy to all the details these days, if you know what I mean, but from what I can tell, she’s harmless. Believes wholeheartedly that her father is going to be murdered in three days’ time. The guys here mostly just laughed her out of the station, but there were a few interesting details to her story.”

Poe looked at him expectantly. “And those are…”

“I’m glad you asked.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Most of it was nonsense. Something about ink on a carpet, a bird, a tie.” Poe nodded along. It was all the same hogwash she’d fed him. “But, then once she’d gotten a little desperate, I heard her slip something about lawyers and the business and I did a little digging.”

Poe got a little twinge at that. He could only imagine the contempt and mockery with which they’d handled someone like Miss Skywalker. How desperate she must have been to be heard. Even if it was all a little nutty, there was no doubt in his mind that the woman believed every word coming out of her mouth.

But Snap wasn’t finished. “Turns out, not all is well at Skywalker Enterprises. I don’t know how they’ve kept this out of the papers, but someone high in the company is trying to have Luke Skywalker declared incompetant and take over the business.”

“So you’re thinking that this has to do with something hinky at Skywalker Enterprises.”

Snap leaned back again, putting his arms behind his head. “That’s why you’re making the big bucks. Thoughts like that are distinctly above my pay grade.”

“Always a pleasure, Snap,” he said, extending a hand for the other man to shake.

Snap straightened up and did just that. “Right back atcha. And don’t be a stranger. I’m sure Karé would love to have you for dinner.”

“Give her my love,” answered Poe, as noncommittal as possible. It was a lovely offer, but nobody wanted his washed up old detective at their dining table.

So he pushed out into the hazy Coruscant sun and planned his next move.

It was 3:02 sharp the next day when Poe showed up at the Skywalker manse. And Rey was already waiting for him.

“About time,” she snapped, obviously completely forgetting about the moon child act for a second. 

“Good afternoon to you too, Miss Skywalker,” he said, already regretting his decision to do this sober. “Forgive me, but I wasn’t aware that ‘around three’ meant on the dot.”

She blinked at his sarcasm, seeming to remember her schtick. “Of course. I’m just so anxious to get to the bottom of this,” she said in that high, breathy voice.

“Right, well then let’s get on it. It’s two subway stops for the first contact.” He’d picked the most innocuous of his criminal informants, the ones that wouldn’t curl Miss Skywalker’s hair anymore than it already was. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Which was accurate. Since Poe would have to double back to the seedier locales after his client grew bored with the work.

“Wouldn’t it be more expedient by car?” she asked, the picture of innocence. “If we have a lot of ground to cover.”

Poe’s face heated. Was she trying to embarrass him? Or was she just that ignorant of how the everyman lived? “Fresh out of those, I’m afraid. We’ll have to take the train.”

“Oh,” she seemed genuinely surprised at that. “Well, I can drive. That’s no problem at all.”

By drive, she meant call their driver, which is how Poe found himself in the back of a brand new Lincoln Zephyr in the part of town it was most likely to get stolen. If they were going for inconspicuous, that was out the window. 

In fact, they were quite the attraction every time they pulled up to one gin joint or another, men scattering like rats when they came into view. Luckily, they weren’t headed for any of the heavy hitters, just a couple of low level con men and the occasional bookie, or their welcomes would have been significantly less than warm.

_ Discretion, Poe, _ he reminded himself.  _ Humor her. _

And humor her he did. So they slogged through the streets, coats cinched tight against the sleeting rain, and listened to man after man tell them the exact same thing. They didn’t know nothing about Luke Skywalker or no plot against him.

But still they soldiered on, at Rey’s insistence. They hit up Vinny and Jimmy and Donny and any of the other usual suspects whose names all ended in Y. The ones that were a little too dumb to recognize that Miss Skywalker was walking around in $500 worth of clothes and do something about it. 

And when he gave in to yet another one of her whims for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon, she turned to him, eyes narrowed.

“He told you, didn’t he?” she asked, gaze sharp and focused on him. When he didn’t immediately answer, she pushed. “My father. He told you about my mother. That’s why you agreed to this. Because you felt sorry for me.”

Caught in the lie, Poe had no choice but to fess up. “I mean, he may have mentioned something about you feeling responsible.” At the look on Rey’s face, he immediately backpedaled. “But that’s not why I’m doing this. I want to help,” he finished lamely, a bold faced lie. But there were tears in the young Miss Skywalker’s eyes, and for some reason he didn’t like that it was him who put them there.

“I asked you last night not to patronize me, Mr. Dameron,” she responded cooly. “And I won’t be asking again.”

Poe swallowed. This woman had a lot more steel than she showed.

“Take me home. You’re right, you can handle this on your own.”

“Miss Skywalker…”

“Now.” 

Right. He would do well to remember who was in charge here.

The car ride back to the Skywalker House was silent, his hostess content to stare out the window as the street numbers got lower and the views improved. Though nothing seemed to improve the rain, which beat against the car windows like it was trying to get in. It would be a long, cold trip back to the office on the train. Maybe he’d just find a cosy little bar around these parts, wait out the storm. Then again, he was pretty sure the Wall Street types would see right through his cheap suit and soaked coat.

Night long since had fallen by the time they pulled up to the Skywalker estate, and as they passed the empty guardhouse at the end of the driveway, Poe catalogued it before immediately dismissing his concern. Luke Skywalker wasn’t the Pope or the President or the goddamn Queen of England. His people got breaks. They probably weren’t even tied to the booth at all.

But Poe couldn’t shake the strange dread that came over him as the mansion grew closer through the front windshield. 

“Uh, Miss Skywalker?”

She didn’t turn from her window gazing. “Yes.”

“Do you guys frequently leave the front door open?”

Her head snapped to the front of the car. Then, with eyes wide as saucers, she turned to him. “No.”

The driver slowed the car to a stop. 

“Stay here,” he said to Miss Skywalker, getting out of the car. Naturally, she ignored him. 

The comforting weight of his side arm was never more welcome as they inched toward that front door, Miss Skywalker at least having the good sense to stand behind him as he passed over the threshold. 

Around them, the house was silent as a tomb, and Poe started praying to a god he wasn’t even sure he believed in that this wasn’t the actual thing. There was no sign of a struggle in the entryway, no blood, no overturned furniture, no telling footprints, just a few leaves that had obviously blown in of their own accord.

“Dad!” called out Miss Skywalker, and in that moment, Poe could have killed her. If someone was in the house…

“Quiet,” he stage-whispered, putting a hand up to hopefully prevent any further outbursts. 

Next to him, she was shaking, tears threatening to spill over in those bright eyes. “Where is he? The staff? The guards?”

Poe had a bad feeling where the guards were, but that was a worry for another time. First, he had to figure out what happened to Luke Skywalker.

“Where does he spend his time? It’s a big house, we can’t search all of it alone.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “His study. He spends all his time in the study.”

But they found no one, not as they edged around the first floor, or as they inched up the steps. There, he found a footprint from a wet shoe, already half-dry. So, it had been a few minutes. A little further up, there was a red handprint on the banister. Blood.

A small sob escaped from Miss Skywalker.

Suddenly, Poe found himself wishing he’d taken the young woman next to him a little more seriously. As they rounded the landing on the second floor, he carefully took out his pistol.

It was his trusty Smith and Wesson, fairly standard issue in his field, but thank god he hadn’t had cause to use it since leaving the force. Something told him that this case would be the one that changed that.

By the time they made it down the hall and to the study, Poe was practically vibrating out of his skin, putting a hand up to keep Rey behind him. He was silent as he entered the room, the signs of a struggle permeating every inch of the space. 

Overturned chairs, papers strewn everywhere, even a downed bookcase caught his eye as he looked around the room. But no sign of Luke Skywalker. Well, except the obvious fight that he’d put up here. 

As he walked around the desk, drawers pulled out and laying in pieces across the floor, Poe’s eyes caught on a large red stain in the beige carpet, a small pot of ink laying in its center.

No body, which was a good sign. Though if he wasn’t mistaken that was an overturned inkpot, its stain spreading across a rich, (blood) red patch of carpet.

Behind him, Miss Skywalker began to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Luke missing, Poe and Rey bring the police onto the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time! I have a ton of this written, so even though it's not my most popular DCW entry, it's one of my favs and I'm gonna keep at it. Hopefully more of you guys will find it in the future and love it as much as I do. 
> 
> That being said, huge shoutout to everyone reading this! I'm so glad you're along for this ride.
> 
> And without further ado, the next installment of the Curious Case of Luke Skywalker.

Poe tried not to roll his eyes as the officer asked him yet another stupid question. Had he been this awful when he was on the beat? There was no way. 

“As I said before, I am a private detective engaged by Miss Skywalker to assist with a case.”

The kid squinted at him. “Right, the case of her father’s future murder. The same father who is now missing.”

Ok, maybe this kid wasn’t as dumb as he looked. 

The officer wrote something in his little notebook. “Seems like a little manifest destiny to me.”

Nope, he definitely was.

Poe cocked his head at the kid. “I don’t think that means what you think it does.”

He was saved from having to explain further by an old colleague entering the conversation.

“Come on, we all know the legendary Poe Dameron didn’t do this. Go make yourself useful somewhere, kid.” He turned to Poe, a smirk on his admittedly handsome face. “How you been, Dameron? You’re really in the mess this time.”

Iola Arana had been one of his closest friends on the force. That is, until everything went south with Muran and people started taking sides. Reading the writing on the wall, Arana had held the company line. Poe couldn’t even blame him. Look where going against the Coruscant PD had gotten him.

“You know me, that’s how I like it,” he quipped back, trying to recover a modicum of that old swagger. While still keeping his guard up. Because make no mistake, they hadn’t cleared him just like that.

Arana, seeing an opening, nodded toward Miss Skywalker. “So you’ve spent some time with her. What’s her deal? She as crazy as she sounds?”

Poe looked over to where Rey was being questioned by her own detective, that daft look on her face as she focused on the middle distance like a carnival soothsayer. He also knew a leading question when he heard one. They were trying to slip them up. 

Good thing they had nothing to hide.

_ It took him a full thirty seconds to get her to stop screaming.  _

_ “Miss Skywalker!” He gripped either arm, shaking her slightly. “Miss Skywalker!” That seemed to jog her out of her hysterics. Those hazel eyes focused on him, sharp as twin tacks. “Your father isn’t here. That’s a good thing.” _

_ “How is that good?” she snapped, all pretense dropped. “My father is missing.” _

_ “Because missing isn’t dead,” he answered, taking another survey of the room. The bloodstain was large, but not large enough to indicate exsanguination. In fact, it was probably something superficial, like a blow to the head. Bloodstains always looked bigger than what they were. He followed a few droplets back to the door and the hall beyond. They’d blended in with the dark floors when he hadn’t know where to look. “And see, they took him alive, probably carried him down the steps.”  _

_ There was color high on those pretty cheeks of hers, but she was moderately calm when she asked, “Ok, so what do we do now?” _

_ “Now?” he said, stalling. There was no doubt that she wasn’t going to like his answer. “Now, we call the police.” _

_ “No.” _

_ “This isn’t a debate, Miss Skywalker.” He stood firm. This case had officially switched from humoring her to the real deal and he wasn’t about to cave to her whims. Again. “Make the call.” _

_ He strode back back into the study, trying to memorize every inch of it, jotting little notes and sketches into his notepad. The police would surely come in here and trod all over the crime scene, and he wanted as many details as he could get. _

_ Naturally, Miss Skywalker was hot on his heels. “The police already declined to assist. Bringing them here now would just invite them to laugh at me again.” _

_ “The case has changed pretty significantly since yesterday, so I’m pretty sure they won’t be laughing now.” Poe added another detail to his rough drawing of the room before a small stack of hexagonal cards on the desk caught his eye. Pushing down the horror at the insignia he found there, he snatched them up and stuck them in his pocket. _

_ “You don’t know that.” _

_ “Yes, I do.” _

_ “No--” _

_ But whatever she was going to say was cut off when Poe finally lost patience and turned on her. “Miss Skywalker, you can either call the police and report the crime right now so we can get cleared and move on, or we’re going to have a long conversation about how you knew your father was fighting to keep control of his company and you declined to tell me.” _

_ That shut her up. _

Which brought them to now. Though, the longer these friendly little conversations with the police dragged on, the more he was wondering if getting them involved was the best idea after all.

Poe turned to Arana, keeping his face completely steady. “Even crazier.”

His old friend chuckled. “The pretty ones always are.”

Something in his tone rankled Poe, but now was not the time to worry about that. There would be plenty of time later for him to figure out what it was all about.

“Right. What about the household staff?”

There was a long moment where Arana eyed him - not all that unsuspiciously - before apparently deciding he was no threat to their investigation.

“Claim Skywalker gave them the night off and they all have alibis a mile long. One was with his family, another was seen by no less than 10 witnesses at a craps table downtown, and the two who work full time in the house were out to dinner together, if you can believe that.” Arana’s tone indicated he didn’t quite. “Apparently, they’re  _ friends _ .”

Poe wasn’t touching that with a 10-foot pole. “And that’s normal? For Skywalker to give the entire staff the night off.”

“The daughter claims it is. Apparently, he liked to give back to the staff or some crap like that.” Arana gave a hearty eye roll. “But she said it without knowing the alibis, so it doesn’t sound like she’s covering for anyone here. And honestly, I don’t think she’d be able to keep her lies straight if she was.”

Poe looked over at the woman in question, doing her little song and dance for the officers. The dazed look. The breathy voice. The odd questions meant to make her seem dumber than she was. But he’d seen the intelligence behind those eyes. Been pinned by their sharp focus. If there was one woman who could lie through her teeth and get away with it, it was Rey Skywalker.

Not that Arana needed to know. 

“So, are we about done here?” asked Poe, seeing an opportunity to wrap this up. It was damn near midnight and he was more than ready for a stiff drink and his bed. 

“Yeah, we’ve got everything we need from you two.” He motioned over to the officer with Miss Skywalker. “Come on, boys. Let’s leave Miss Skywalker to it.”

That’s all it took and the entire operation, the beat cops and detectives and men with their cameras and notebooks that had been traipsing through the house for the better part of three hours, were packing up, disappearing one-by-one through the door.

Miss Skywalker watched them go with a scowl on her pretty face, arms crossed over her chest. When the last man had left and Rey had been handed Arana’s card with the instructions to call if she remembered anything else, she turned that scowl on Poe.

“So I suppose that means you’re done with my case,” she spat, all piss and vinegar. No sign of the dreamy girl who’d spoken to the police. 

Poe sized her up. “The exact opposite, in fact. Now, I’m interested. And I know that I’m your best shot at finding your father alive.”

Rather than abate her anger, his words appeared to incense her.

“Then why did you make me call the police! We just wasted how many hours that we could have been looking for him.”

“Because I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want to be under suspicion if your father shows up somewhere, claiming to have been kidnapped.” What he didn’t say was “or dead.” But he figured she got the message. “But you made the call yourself. We’ve been cleared. And now, we can have an honest conversation about what’s going on here and maybe find your father in the process.”

He watched in real time as she threw up that facade, her voice turning high when she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Drop the looney tunes act, we both know it’s fake.”

Her expression immediately cleared. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this thing with Skywalker Enterprises?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Poe gritted his teeth. This woman. “Why didn’t you tell me that your father is about to be pushed out of his own company?”

“It didn’t seem relevant to this case.”

“Not relevant to the case?” Poe laughed, the sound flat and sarcastic to his own ears. “You don’t think that maybe it was important that someone is trying to get your father off the board and then you have a vision of him dying?”

She blinked, obviously digesting that information. “Well, now I do.”

“Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”

“No.” When he gave her a skeptical look, she reiterated. “ _ No.  _ You know everything I do now.”

“Then tell me, are you working with the First Order?”

Her face scrunched up in genuine confusion. “The First Order? Who’s the First Order?”

Poe dug the cards he’d pocketed earlier and slapped them onto the desk between them. Rey’s eyes went wide in recognition. “A sun, only square,” he said, repeating the description of her vision. “Sounds an awful lot like the First Order’s symbol.”

“Where did you find these?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. One of her slim fingers traced the outline, the sixteen squared-off rays that could easily be mistaken for a stylized sun. 

“Here. On your dad’s desk. Before the police came.” Her eyes dragged from the cards to meet his own in surprise. “Don’t say I never helped you.”

“You kept them from the police. But why?”

Now wasn’t that a loaded question. He chose his words carefully. “The First Order and I had a bit of a run in back when I was on the force. And back then I had reason to believe that they had spies within the department itself.”

That seemed to satisfy her, but she wasn’t done questioning him. “Okay, but who are they?”

“A criminal organization.” An oversimplification, but he didn’t exactly have the time to get into the nitty gritty of the most complex organization he’d ever had the misfortune to cross paths with.

“Like the mob?”

“Like the mob times 10,” he answered, just thankful she was taking this seriously. “They’re the mob that the mob aspires to be.”

“And these super mobsters have my father?”

Poe took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. “Unfortunately, all signs point to that.”

At his words, Rey jumped into motion.

“Well, what are we standing here for? We need to- to-” she paused, apparently unable to find the right word. “Do something,” she finished, kind of lamely.

“It’s very late, Miss Skywalker. And I need to get you someplace safe to sleep.”

Immediately, she stood taller.

“I will be sleeping here, in my own bed. There’s no safer place in town.”

“With all due respect--”

She immediately cut him off. “People only say that when they’re about to disrespect you.”

Poe gave a little chuckle in spite of himself. She had jokes, this young Skywalker. “With all due respect, your father was just abducted from this very house. I don’t think they’re looking for you, but I’m also not willing to take that risk.”

She seemed to turn that over. “Fine. Where are you hiding me?”

Poe blinked at her question. He hadn’t actually gotten that far, yet. 

“Uh, not sure. But I’ll think of something. Just, pack a bag.” If Rey was skeptical of his non-plan, she didn’t say so. He watched her glide in that way she had over to the door, something inside him snapping so he asked, “That moon child, ethereal seer act. What’s the deal there?”

He half expected her to tell him to mind his own business (or worse), which honestly would be well within her rights, but she surprised him by turning to face him with a soft smile on her face.

“When you tell people that you can see the future, there’s a certain way they look at you, a certain way you're seen by everyone around you.” Poe swallowed the lump that had formed at her soft, even words. “If they call you crazy enough times, you start to believe it. And people see what they want to see. I just decided at one point to give them a little show.” Her lips spread into a smile, probably the first genuine one he’d seen on her. It was open and toothy and not at all bland. “Plus, I find that sometimes being underestimated at every turn comes in handy.”

The moment stretched, and for the first time in their short acquaintance, he felt something more than pity or annoyance for Rey Skywalker. And he realized that despite the lies and playacting, he might actually like this woman.

Well, imagine that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


	5. The Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe gives Rey a safe place to stay. Later, they formulate a plan going forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quiet chapter before we dive back into the mess. 
> 
> I apologize, I know I'm a little more scattered with posting these days. I'm trying to figure out a schedule that works with my 900 WIPs. Hopefully I'll be a little more regular going forward. Thanks for sticking with me anyway!

Turned out that “I’ll think of something” translated to bringing her to his apartment. 

Poe was acutely aware of the dodgy neighborhood and relative squalor of his building as he took the heiress to the Skywalker fortune up five flights of stairs to his dingy one bedroom. By some act of god, the place wasn’t in that bad of shape for once, no stack of filthy dishes in the sink or discarded underwear laying in plain view. Sure, he’d have to change out the sheets and make sure there was nothing damning happening in his bedroom, but all in all, he decided it could be worse. A lot worse.

Though he would have appreciated it if it didn’t smell like the bottom of a used ashtray in here. You win some, you lose some.

“Sorry, it’s not exactly the Ritz,” he said by way of apology. “But it’s the safest place I can think of on short notice.”

Nervously, he looked over to his guest, expecting to find her nose crinkled in disgust. But to his great surprise, Rey was surveying the space dispassionately, her eyes simply taking it all in before declaring, “It’s cute.”

Before Poe could stop himself, he snorted. “That’s generous.”

Rather than walk it back, she doubled down.

“No, no,” she said, a knowing little smile on her face. “It’s… homey.”

Poe looked around at his threadbare couch that sagged in the middle, the scuffed table he ate his few meals at, even the half drank glasses of whiskey scattered about before bursting out laughing. 

“Come on, we both know you’re better at lying than that.”

At that, his guest let out a giggle, the sound so warm and so welcome in his otherwise dismal space that he couldn’t help but feel a little something in his chest. 

“I tried,” she said, her gaze turning expectant.

Right. He was the host here. So he had to host.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Scotch? I’m afraid that’s about all I’ve got on hand at the moment,” he offered, his face heating slightly. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“Um, do you have anything warm?” she asked, making her way over to the couch. He prayed she didn’t sink right through. 

He walked toward his pathetic excuse for a kitchen, on a mission. “Let me check.” He thought he had a tea bag or two from a misguided attempt to take better care of himself a few years ago. Digging through his cabinets, he came up victorious, finding a small tin of tea bags with only a half inch or so of dust on it. “Tea?”

Rey smiled. “That would be lovely.” 

He dug out his kettle and got it going on the stove, finding a couple of chipped, mismatched mugs that were passably clean. He ran the dish towel over them to be safe.

Peeking out into the living room, he found Rey wholly unperturbed by her surroundings, safely ensconced on the couch (and not having fallen through, thank god). The blandness of his couch was at odds with the gorgeous deep plum of her dress, a different style today, yet no less lovely on Miss Skywalker. He almost felt bad for whatever stains from the couch were surely creeping into the fabric. Maybe he should have put a sheet down or something.

The kettle whistled, snapping Rey’s head up. Where her eyes locked with his, catching him staring red handed.

Poe’s heart beat against his ribs, neither of them daring to look away for one breath, maybe two. The kettle screamed on.

“You should probably…” she said, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips, “get that.”

“Right, right,” he answered, snapping out of it long enough to go over and stop the incessant whistle. 

Somehow, the silence made it worse.

At least he had something to busy his hands with, the calming routine of tea bags and hot water distracting him from the fact he’d been busted staring at his client. By his client. Whom he now had to actually talk to, plan next steps, work with for the next three or so days. 

He wasn’t sure he was gonna make it.

But he pushed that down, instead slapping on his own bland smile before walking out with two mugs in hand. “Hope you like it black, cause I’m fresh out of milk. Might be able to scrounge up some sugar, though.”

“Black is fine,” she answered, accepting her mug. “Unless you have a little whiskey.” There was a spark in those eyes, a playfulness he hadn’t even begun to see making itself known.

Poe smiled. Had he mentioned she was his type of woman?

“Lucky for you, the bar is the only thing I keep stocked around here.” Her laugh propelled him toward the bottles neatly lined up on the sideboard, Poe selecting one before adding a healthy pour to both his mug and hers.

She nodded. “A little more.” Poe did as instructed.

He watched as Rey took a hearty sip, one that must have burned all the way down, before she pinned him to the spot with those wide, luminous eyes. “So, what are our next steps? How are we going to find him?”

Poe’s breath left him in a rush. Of course. How could he forget that Rey - err, Miss Skywalker - wasn’t here to share loaded glances and very alcoholic tea. They were on a case here, one with very high stakes and a rapidly dwindling clock. Rey obviously hadn’t forgotten, and he’d do well to do the same.

At least he had a pretty solid answer.

“Well, we take what we learned, and we dig deeper,” he said, taking a sip of his own tea. Yup, definitely a burn. “Hit the streets, ask more questions.”

She blinked at him. “So, your big plan is to do exactly what we just did - unsuccessfully might I add - and what, hope for better answers this time around?”

Well when she said it like that.

“Yeees,” he answered carefully, drawing it out. “That’s pretty much the definition of detective work.”

“Well it’s not good enough.” 

Poe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He officially liked the flighty girl better.

“And what do you propose we do?”

For once, Miss Skywalker didn’t have an answer.

“Do you have any additional insights?” He said it lightly, in a way that she wouldn’t miss the meaning. “Any visions you’d care to share?”

“No,” she snapped, her face darkening slightly. “I’m not a circus performer, I can’t do it on command.”

Poe smirked. “Ok, then we start first thing in the morning with our new leads.” He stood, making his way over to the bedroom. Hopefully he had a set of clean sheets.

“I thought the types we were questioning weren’t morning people,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“That’s the beauty of new leads. New people, new questions.”

At that she settled back on the couch, at least somewhat satisfied. Good lord, she was going to be handful, wasn’t she?

“Sit tight, I’m just gonna freshen up the bedroom and then it’s all yours.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, all earlier snark disappearing from her face. She gave a little bounce. “I’ll be quite happy on the couch.”

Poe almost laughed at her sad attempt at a fake smile. Not at all as convincing as she thought. “Nonsense. I won’t hear it. It’ll just be a minute, Miss Skywalker.”

“I’ve told you, it’s Rey.” Her face softened into something a little fond. Something a little dangerous. At least, for him.

“I know, Miss Skywalker.”

It was more than a minute, though not by all that much, but when Poe returned to the living room, he found the young Miss Skywalker dozing, the mug left abandoned on his ringed coffee table. 

In sleep, she looked impossibly young, and Poe could imagine that little girl, the one who lost her mother and blamed herself. He could also see the fierce woman, determined not to lose her father in the same way. 

He hated to do it, but leaned over and whispered as gently as possible, “Miss Skywalker?”

She groaned, shifting slightly before promptly falling back asleep. Poe huffed out a laugh. Looked like it was going to be the hard way.

Carefully, he slid an arm under both knees and shoulders, his back giving a twinge as he lifted her from the couch. Thankfully, it was a quick trip to the bedroom, and Poe held his breath for the five or so steps. 

She shifted slightly when he set her onto the bed, her soft voice murmuring something he didn’t quite catch before she settled back against his pillow. Her face was a work of art in the light streaming through his bedroom window, all soft lines and shadows. Like something out of a museum. Before he did something stupid, he tucked her in, his voice soft when he said, “Goodnight, Rey.”

Poe woke to the sound of bacon frying.

No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t have any bacon. Must still be dreaming.

A bang from the direction of his tiny kitchen was immediately followed by a muttered, “shit,” Poe’s eyes flying open. 

Rey Skywalker stood in front of his range, looking fresh as a daisy, despite the fact that they’d barely gotten - Poe looked down at his watch - three hours of sleep. Christ. Her hair was pinned back, perfect little curls brushing her shoulders. The dress was new, and somehow perfectly pressed despite the fact that it had spent the night stuffed in her little bag. 

The movement drew Rey’s attention. “Oh, there you are! Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Of course she was a morning person. Go figure.

“Morning,” he mumbled in return, running a hand over his face. It rasped against his scruff. Without needing to look, he somehow knew his own appearance left something to be desired, what with the two-day growth and the two-day clothes. 

“I’ve got coffee on the stove,” she said, Poe spying his ancient, hand-me-down percolator on the burner. “Plus eggs and bacon frying, if you’re hungry.”

That certainly got his attention. “But I don’t have eggs or bacon.”

Rey laughed, stirring something in the huge cast iron skillet he never used. 

“I know. You actually had nothing edible in the house. So I popped down to the corner shop.”

He blinked. Of course she had. “Yeah, I’m gonna need some of that coffee.” Though he had a sinking feeling that there wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to deal with Rey Skywalker.

Turned out, eggs and bacon weren’t the only things on the menu. No sooner had Rey set a plate in front of him and sat down with one of her own, the questions began.

“So, who are we questioning first?” she asked, Poe’s fork pausing mid bite. 

He sighed, resigned to the fact that Rey wasn’t going to make a single thing about this easy. “Can I get a cup of coffee in me first?”

Rey leaned forward, her eyes intent on his. “My father is missing. I doubt whoever has him gave the option to wait until after coffee.”

How did you argue with that? Well, Poe stared her down, taking a deliberate sip from his mug.

The client was not amused. “Are you even taking this seriously? You said first thing this morning. It’s first thing.”

“Listen, Miss Skywalker,” he said, deciding to level with her. If this was going to work, they needed to be on the same page. “I am going to do everything in my power to get your father back. I will question every contact, hit every street, pressure every police officer I know. But I’m going on about two hours of sleep for the last two days, so unless I get some coffee in me, and fast, I’m going to be no good to anyone. Ok?”

Rey blinked at his little little soliloquy, letting the words sink in. Finally, her face softened. “Ok.”

“Thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to enjoy this lovely breakfast you were kind enough to make.”

He watched as Rey preened a little at the attention, Poe gathering a heaping forkful before taking a bite.

And desperately not trying to gag at the taste.

Right. She was an heiress. Probably never cooked a day in her life.

Acutely aware of Rey’s eyes on him, he carefully chewed the bite in his mouth and swallowed. Good god, what did she put in there? And how does one manage to make scrambled eggs taste like that?

Somehow, he managed to make it through half his plate before declaring himself stuffed and getting up to clear the table before Rey could offer. He’d just have to chug a second cup of coffee to fill the void. He was doing just that when Rey sidled back over to the kitchen.

“So, is the plan to find some of these First Order goons and question them?” she asked, all innocence.

Poe nearly choked on at his coffee at the mere suggestion. “No, we most certainly are not.” He took a moment to wipe at the dribbles on his chin. Very attractive. “The First Order is an exceedingly dangerous and complex criminal organization, and I don’t know about you, but I’d very much like to live long enough to see this case through.”

“Then who are we questioning?”

He’d spent a lot of time last night staring up the stained ceiling and pondering that very question. So thankfully, he had an answer. “I figured we’d start with people who were in the area around the time of your father’s disappearance. The mailman, delivery folks, there’s a construction site right across the street, tons of witnesses there. Next, we can swing by the station, see what leads they have. Then later, hopefully with some new information, we go back downtown, work some of my less savory contacts.”

It was a sound plan, one he was actually pretty proud of. Which is why he couldn’t figure out the sour look on Miss Skywalker’s face.

“That’s all you have? The mailman, some construction workers, and the police officers who turned me away?”

“Don’t forget the lowlifes,” he shot back, taking a smug sip of his coffee. “And the thugs. Very integral to my plan.”

She did not appreciate his humor. “I don’t think you’re…”

Poe put up a hand to stop her. “Miss Skywalker, I promised both you and your father that I’d take this case seriously.” That was only half true, he’d actually promised Luke that he’d keep Rey busy. But she didn’t know that. “And I plan to honor that. I assure you, I’m taking this very seriously. Now, if you have any real objections to my plans-”

“I don’t understand why we’re bothering with the police. Again. They made it very clear that they didn’t believe me when I brought this to them two days ago.”

“And wouldn’t you say that circumstances have changed?” He watched the anger and resentment ebb away into begrudging acceptance. “Anyway, they’ll have more access to information. Phone records, official questioning, that sort of thing. Listen, I like it about as much as you, but they have access I just can’t get these days.”

“But you don’t trust them to find my father?”

“Hell, no.” His face heated when he realized what he’d just said. “Apologies, Miss. That’s no language for a lady.”

Rey tried, and failed, to suppress a small smile. “No apology necessary. I can assure you, I’ve heard worse.”

“Doesn’t make it right. My mama would be rolling in her grave if she heard that.”

Her eyes softened noticeably at that small confession. Something they had in common. As if realizing she’d gone soft, she rearranged her face into something more formidable. “Well, I’ll let you get ready,” she said, making a point of looking down at his sad attire. “We’re wasting daylight here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Keep your eyes peeled for another chapter later this week!


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